The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 04

After walking up the street a bit, Samantha complained about how hard it was to carry all the shopping bags they had. Then she asked: "Arthur would you carry our bags?" Being a criminal I had to comply. The hotel was at least within sight about half a kilometer ahead. With bags in each hand I marched on, eager to be rid of those two.

As we got closer, I could see a disturbance up ahead, near the hotel. A bus had stalled across the trolley line and a crowd of tourists was watching a wrecker hook up to their stranded bus. They waited for another bus to pick them up outside the hotel. What was most worrying was that a group of Danubian police had taken charge of the scene. With the girls' hotel straight ahead I couldn't avoid walking right through the crowd. Moving quickly, I hoped to get into the hotel unnoticed.

Before I could get even to the sidewalk, I heard a policewoman order me to stop. The two girls walked right on by as I stopped and turned toward the officer. My heart sank when I recognized her as one of the cops who likes to harass me after work. In what has become a conditioned response I quickly placed the shopping bags on the sidewalk and kneeled down as the officer approached.

I could see out of the corner of my eye the crowd of tourists had all turned in my direction. There was a flash; someone in the crowd was taking pictures. This seemed to amuse the officer, who had her switch out and posed by me for several photographs. "This is what happens to spies here," she kept saying in English. This cop's English has improved significantly in the last three weeks; I think the bitch is probably taking English classes just to insult me better.

After what seemed like an eternity the wretched tourists loaded up onto a new bus and left. About this time the policewoman noticed my two companions who were staring wide-eyed at the scene before them. In English she says "This your girlfriends?" she gestures toward the two. "Now they see you dishonored."

In Danubian she said what I believed to be: "Criminal # 88588 tell your girlfriends what disgraceful trash you are!" And then something about crimes and trial. Though I didn't understand every word I knew from previous encounters that she wanted me to tell these "girlfriends" not only of the crimes I was convicted of but also about the shooting. I could see a couple pairs of feet to my left, assuming those belonged to the girls I translated.

"The officer ordered me to tell you two the circumstances of my arrest. My employer and I broke into an office to steal data and he shot a Danubian police officer while trying to escape. The officer survived but he has not recovered."

"Tell girlfriends you sentence." The officer smugly ordered.

"I'm sentenced to thirty years of wearing the criminal's collar"... knowing that the officer would demand it I continue: "and a switching every 90 days."

She wasn't through yet, calling to some of her fellow officers in Danubian, she says what I think meant: "Officers, It seems that I have caught criminal # 88588 corrupting these two young women. He should know that dishonored scum like him don't deserve their attention."

Several more officers were near me then. My tormenter was pleased. "Officer Stashak, I believe you know this criminal."

I heard another female voice then. This policewoman quickly let loose a long series of insults in Danubian which I couldn't keep up with. Officer Stashak was a woman I knew all too well.

In English my tormenter asks: "You miss Officer Stashak? Tell girlfriends who Officer Stashak is."

Utterly humiliated I reply. "Officer Stashak is the partner of the policeman that my employer shot... and she administers my judicial punishments."

"She make Criminal # 88588 scream at trial and much cry yes?"

I remained silent, and apparently moved a bit too much. I felt the burn of the switch twice across my shoulders.

Snapping back into form, I managed to reply in a tone of barely suppressed hatred: "Yes, officer."

"Get up", the officer said. "Carry for girlfriends."

I tried to ignore the stares of all the people who had been watching this curious scene and picked up the bags. I walked inside the lobby eager to finish and go home. The girl's were ahead of me, and the officer who stopped me followed behind. With my mood lower than ever I follow the girls into the elevator. The officer still has a look of pure delight on her face, as we got off at the third floor and find the suite where the girls were staying.

Samantha knocked on the door. An older man that I suspected was her father answered the door. He obviously wasn't thrilled to have his daughter and her friend escorted by a naked criminal and a cop. "Sammie, is there a problem? Who are these people?"

Samantha looked back nervously. "Uh... this is Arthur, he's a criminal that helped us carry our bags, and this... this is Officer... I don't know her name but she's just escorting us to the room."

The man paused to look us over. "I... I see, thank you officer, and... and Arthur. Please excuse us." He took the bags and hurried the girls inside.

I turned to the officer.

Pleased with herself, she smiled. "That will be all Criminal # 88588; I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

So Tee, that's how my day went...

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Arthur grew tired of writing. He put down the pen and carefully removed the three pages that the letter was written on. He wadded them up in his hands and threw them in the trash with all the other letters he never mailed.